Broken
by Carolyn James-Ryan
Summary: I feel you down in my soul, you rattle my bones.
1. Prelude

He had been walking for days in a desperate attempt to escape.

The black boots he'd been furnished had began to show signs of ruin; long, torn strips of leather scraped against the pavement with each Bucky discovered the memorial dedicated in memory of himself at the Smithsonian a wave of panic washed over him, and in fear of being recognized he bolted. Memories crashed into the corners of his mind, memories that he'd previously thought to have been washed away fell onto him like a ton of bricks.

_A young blonde boy ran beside his friend, nearly hopping with joy for the night's adventure- the fourth of July- it just so happened to also be his birthday._

_"You're serious, Buck?" Steve's prepubescent voice squeaked, "real firecrackers?! How's that work?"_

_Bucky snickered, but nodded nonetheless. "That's right, bud. They fly way up in the sky and pop right off. S'amazing. I saw some old men lightin' some up last year but Mama made me come back in, Josie was sick- remember?"_

_Steve cringed at the memory of the youngest Barnes' fight with the flu- a terrible battle it was, but the girl survived and seemed to be as healthy as a horse now. "Yeah, I remember."_

_"Just stay close to me when we get there, got it? I hear they get real loud after a while."_

He glanced up from the sidewalk, sniffing from the bitter cold, and moved a bit of hair from his face.

James Barnes knew the smell of oncoming snow- he'd been surrounded by ice longer than some men were allowed to live, but yet he found an odd sense of comfort in the freezing temperatures. _At least when I was in the cold I was safe, people were safe. _The sky littered the ground with the commencement of winter by producing large, white flakes from the heavens to cover the sins of the earth.

His stomach clenched painfully from lack of nutrition but he had no intention of stopping. He eyed a broken down building with hungry eyes; if he stopped for the night and plundered a stomachful of food he could be on his way by dawn.

He stepped forward onto the stoop of an apartment and raised onto his toes, peeking into the window of the dwelling. Inside he saw two masses of hair, each curled more than he thought hair was able to, wrapped in a small blanket.

His knees went slack, he blinked slowly and before he knew it the world before him became more and more blurred, until finally it disappeared into a flash of white.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **Now as many of you know I've had this story up for about a month. I lost touch with the characters, but my love for the story line never faded, so I decided to rewrite it in hopes of reconnecting with the characters._

_I've changed many aspects of the story, Book One will be quite a bit longer than it was, and way more developed. I hope you guys approve of/liked this chapter! Let me know with a comment!_

_Also, for the people who've stuck with me thus far, I love you and thanks for your support for this series!_


	2. Colder Weather

Nora Robinson had never been one to bottle her emotions.

Even as a child she cried for other's misfortunes, prayed for those who were worse off than her; the ethics her grandmother instilled in her during their short visits proved to outshine the harshness of the world around her. As she continued to grow her emotions followed suit, but even so she became a bit more hardened to her surroundings.

For you see, her parents were lodged in the rough side of town, the part of the neighborhood where only few went- and the ones who did were who you needed to fear most, giving her innocence only a short life to live.

She was nine years old when she saw her first dead body, the same age as her niece Emma. She remembered it clearly; the blood, people screaming, police sirens. Her mother did nothing to shelter her from it, she simply snorted in contempt and continued walking only turning to call for Nora when her footsteps halted.

_"Come," Bianca demanded angrily. "Your father doesn't appreciate when we're late, Eleanor, you know that."_

_The young girl's eyes fought to tear away from the scene, to forget what she'd witnessed, but failed. "M-Mom, i-is he-"_

_"Dead. Yes, obviously." The willowy blonde gazed haughtily down her nose at the man and nudged his side with her pointed shoe. "Probably had it coming, though. By the looks of it he was killed by a gang of some sort."_

_Nora felt a swell of emotions in her chest, but before her tears had time to surface she felt bile rise in her throat and turned to empty her stomach. For several moments gagged, as if even her body wanted rid of the sight, while her mother simply turned to continue walking. Young Nora's knees began to tremble; the asphalt beneath her dug mercilessly into her legs as she fell. Her body involuntarily curled into a ball to protect herself from any harm to come her way.  
_

_A terrible scent wafted over her, a smell that she could only assume was blood._

_"Once you've finished your dramatics you know where the house is, Nora. I'll give you ten minutes before I lock the door."_

That moment alone urged her to pursue a career in medicine. She figured that she could live to help people, to save their lives even if no one else cared whether they lived or died.

Nora did her best in school, and although she struggled with mathematics she soared through every science course she encountered. She went on to graduate third in her high school class with only her brother, Owen, there to cheer her on. However, even with her outstanding grades during school she received no offers to college, and the financial aid she received from the state only served to provide her parents with a little extra money to spend on their expensive vacations.

Fresh out of high school Nora joined the workforce at Lenore's cafe, a small diner on the outskirts of town, and eventually purchased her very own apartment.

* * *

Nora burrowed further into the ratty couch and wrapped her arms around the small body beside her to produce a little extra body heat. The small afghan she and her grandmother knit her when she was a child served little purpose, but somehow gave her the comfort she needed when the blustering weather fell onto them. The wind howled through the trees, and because of the paper thin walls of the apartment Nora could hear everything.

She rolled her eyes and shivered, tucking the material underneath her feet to pocket what little heat they had. She blinked, her large eyes tired from the double shift she pulled that day, listening as winter fell all around her.

Emma shivered and buried her head into the crook of her aunt's neck, her tiny hands on Nora's side.

"Wake up, Rugrat," Nora whispered, running a hand through her soft hair. The morning sun did little to heat the atmosphere, but the winter light seemed to be the brightest. "Savannah'll be here soon to watch you-"

_Thump.__  
_

Nora gasped and instinctively pushed Emma behind her.

"Go to your room and lock the door," she whispered quickly, waiting until Emma was out of sight before she began to move. As quietly as possible she padded toward the closet where she kept her safety equipment and grabbed an iron baseball bat. With a quick hand she wrenched the door open, the bat in her hands cocked back ready to swing.

On the ground before her lay a man in his early to mid-twenties, sprawled out. Her eyes doubled in size before she crouched beside him, her fingers instinctively darting to the right side of his neck.

"Come on," she whispered, urging his heart to beat, "come on."

When she felt the light lurch beneath her fingers she sighed in relief and attempted to roll him over. She heard a deep hum come from his chest and waited until a pair of icy blue eyes stared up at her. The glassed look in his eyes confirmed that he was a sick man, and if he were left out in the winter weather of northern Maine he'd surely die.

"I need you to get up," she directed him gently. "I can't lift you by myself, you have to walk."

The man made a pitiful effort of raising to his feet, but fell before he got to his knees. Nora chewed her full lower lip in thought before she crouched to his level, tucking herself beneath his right arm. She felt his weak grip tighten around her shoulders and he pushed off the frozen ground with a grunt.

"You all right?" Nora asked.

He gave a solitary nod.

"If I bring you inside you aren't going to hurt us?" _Or worse, _she thought.

He narrowed his eyes at her but still shook his head and mumbled 'no'.

They made their way inside, crashing into objects here and there until finally they stopped just outside her bedroom door. He against the wall, bracing himself until she managed to open the door. Once more she gathered him in her arms and practically dragged him inside and over to the bed where, to her surprise, he fell unconscious.

"Please don't be a killer," she whispered.


	3. Irony

Nora sighed and plunged the sponge into the cold water that sat in a small pail by the bedside, then softly ran it over the man's burning skin. Silently she watched as he began to shudder before a line of goosebumps rose to the surface of his arm, across his chest and down his toned stomach, plunging beneath the thin silk sheet he'd been wrapped in for nearly a week. For a quick moment she caught herself thinking of what lay beneath the fabric and immediately felt consumed by a wave of shame.

_He's a sick man, _she snapped internally, blushing. _Get a hold of yourself._

Once the heat left her cheeks she took care to sponge his face, tucking the long strands of hair that fell onto his cheeks behind his ear. She tilted her head slightly to study his unique features- he was young, that much was obvious, but she was curious to his true age; from the evidence of premature wrinkles around the corners of his eyes she gathered that he'd lived a hard life, a stressful one.

His lips were picturesque, she'd never seen such sculpted lips on a man, the top a thin line while the bottom seemed as soft as the pillows he rested on. His jawline was what one might call chiseled, masculine and covered in a thin layer of dark hair. Unconsciously she licked her own before she rose from her kneeling position and grabbed the water.

"I'll be back," she told him quietly. Sometimes she pondered on if he could hear her when she spoke to him, if he would remember what she said when he woke.

She'd taken to talking him through the risks she'd taken by even harboring him in her apartment with her young niece. At night she'd mull on her decision as a million questions filled her mind, but she always came to the same conclusion.

_What would I want if I were in the same position?_

She felt, deep in her soul, that she'd done the right thing.

"Nora," Emma called from the kitchen, "I think the soup is done."

She followed the echo of the child's tinkling voice, her footsteps light on the cold, hardwood floor. "Thanks, sweetie," Nora smiled and pressed a small kiss on the back of the girl's head. "You have any homework?"

"Yes," Emma smiled happily. "But I wanted to help you with...", she paused a moment to think of an appropriate term, "what's his name."

Nora chuckled and stirred the chicken soup in the large, boiling pot. "I guess that'll have to do for now, won't it kiddo? As soon as I'm done I'll help you, okay?"

"It's only a little reading," Emma shrugged lightly. Nora watched as her large, brown eyes brightened before she bounced toward her. "D'you think what's his name can hear us? Not right now, I mean if we tried to talk to him- you think he'd hear?"

"I'd like to think so," Nora replied. "Why?"

Emma twirled her fingers into her dark ponytail. "I was just thinkin' that maybe we could read it in there, that maybe it'll make him happy to hear that someone cares about him."

"Aren't you a little queen," Nora smiled. "Are you sure you aren't just wanting to be nosy about our visitor?"

A large, gap-toothed grin broke across Emma's face. "No!"

"Well, I guess if you really want to you can read to him. But hear me now," she ladled the bowl in her hand full of soup, never taking her eyes off the girl, "never go in there if I'm not here, for anything."

"Okay," Emma drawled.

Nora raised an eyebrow high on her forehead. "I mean it, Emma."

After a short chat about the dangers of strangers Nora found herself once more by the bedside, spoon feeding the stranger in her bed. She bit back a bitter smile as she realized the irony of her speech, watching as the man's eyes went from half-lidded to closed in a matter of seconds. The bowl she held only contained a fraction of what she provided him, which granted a strong feeling of pride from the woman- maybe her work was paying off after all.

She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead, smiling when she felt an almost average temperature.

* * *

Nora sat by Emma's side as she closed the small book her teacher assigned the class to read, a smile ever etched onto her face.

"That was excellent, Em," Nora praised proudly. "You're reading way beyond your grade level!"

Emma shrugged humbly, her eyes still on the half-naked man lying before her. She craned her neck to get a better view of his face and inhaled sharply when his eyes bolted open to meet hers. Emma pressed herself further into the chair before she jumped up and sprinted to the doorway.

"Water," he croaked.

Emma bolted from the room, her hair bouncing behind her.

"I'll be right back," Nora said before dashing after her niece. She stood outside the door next to the room they'd just left, calling to Emma through the door. "Emma, open up it's just me. C'mon sweetie, it's all right."

Slowly the door creaked open- the only part of Emma's body Nora could see were her tear filled brown eyes. Before she had time to ask, a sob bubbled from her throat and she threw herself into her aunt's arms, clutching her for dear life.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" Nora asked patiently, rubbing her back gently. "Are you scared?"

Emma sniffed harshly and shook her head. "N-No."

"What is it, then?"

Emma pulled her head back, giving Nora a full view of her face. Her eyebrows crinkled and her nostrils flared with sadness. "Is he going to die?"

Nora was speechless, being unable to respond to her question she simply wrapped her arms around her and allowed her to cry. "Shh, it's okay. He's going to be alright, honey. But I have to get him some water, keep him hydrated. You gonna be okay until I get back?"

Emma nodded with a hiccup. "D-Don't leave him until he goes back to sleep."

* * *

Bucky stared at the woman deliriously, watching as the room swayed behind her. She extended a scrawny arm to him, offering him what seemed like endless amounts of water. He felt the refreshing liquid coat his dry throat and bit back a groan of pain as he swallowed harshly. He felt the consciousness leave his body thread by thread until he could no longer see the world around him.

"You better not die."


	4. Burning

Burning.

That's the word that came to mind; the only way Bucky could describe the sensation he was feeling. A searing that fire nested at the base of his eyes, steadily working its way to encompassing his entire body. He felt a chill of energy run over him before a yawn was elicited from him, his fingers separating as he stretched. Slowly he blinked, his left eye cracked a fraction quicker before the right, opening his eyes lucidly for the first time he'd been taken in.

He lay wrapped in a thick duvet, surprisingly comfortable in its embrace, practically swallowed by the softness of it; by the looks of it he resided in a female's room. The walls were lightly stained with a sky blue, a harsh contrast to the dark purple accents the woman decorated with.

Motionlessly he decided to listen the sounds that surrounded him for any signs of immediate danger, closing his eyes for maximum effectiveness. Light footsteps, boiling water and the soft blaring of a television in the background filled his ears. He buried his head deeper into the pillow as the squealing of a teapot shook him slightly, unused to the shrillness of it.

A cry of pain was heard just outside the door, and yet he lay still.

_That voice, _he thought, _I've heard it before._

"Emma," she called, her voice clenched. "Can you hand me the ice pack out of the fridge, please?"

Again the sound of hurried footsteps flooded his hearing.

_A child, _he presumed. _A woman and child._ He waited patiently to hear a man's rough tone or heavy padding against the floor, so he was all the more surprised when he heard the door to the room open quietly.

His eyes darted toward the sound, watching as a woman with hair twice her size smiled from the threshold, a tray of food in her hands.

"You're awake," she said, her voice shaky. He was surprised to hear her raspy voice come from such soft lips; it almost sounded wrong.

He gave a jerky nod, the muscles in his neck stiff from his time lying still, and licked his cracked lips with the tip of his tongue. "H-how long have I..." he trailed off.

She took a cautious step toward him, testing the water, and sat the tray beside his leg. The spices assaulted his nose, beckoning him forward to get a better smell as pieces of chicken, carrots and celery floated happily on the surface.

He noticed the smoothness of the fresh burn that encompassed her palm and gathered that she was the one that had been burned by the teapot earlier.

"Almost a week," she responded.

A bout of heat overtook him and he wiped his forehead with his flesh hand.

"You really need to eat," she said patiently, shuffling her feet against the white carpet. "You need the nutrition- you've fought a fever since you've been here."

He sat silently for a moment, simply staring at the wall.

"It's good, I promise," she offered. "Emma and I've already had seconds. I was just coming up to feed you-," she cut herself off, turning three shades of red, clearing her throat uncomfortably, her eyebrows raised high. "Like I said, you really need to eat."

She scurried across the floor, her arm extended for the doorknob, but Bucky had other plans.

"What's your name?" He asked quietly, genuinely confused by her familiarity. She stopped, her curly hair bouncing down her back as she did so, and turned to face him. Her pretty lips twisted into a smile.

"Eleanor," she said. "Nora. And yours?"

Mental pictures of the man from the bridge and his monument at the Smithsonian flashed through his eyes. "Bucky."

"Well Bucky, whenever you're ready to come outside this room just give me a holler and I'll help, okay? You absolutely can not push yourself; you've only recovered from exhaustion and dehydration. A few of your ribs are broken too," she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What happen to you?"

Bucky's chest constricted as he recalled his fight with Captain America. "I can't remember," he lied.

"The bathroom's just beside the room we're in now," she said finally. "Like I said if you need anything just let me know, okay?"

Once more he only nodded and spooned a bite of soup into his mouth. The woman turned again to leave and was just about to close the door when-

"Nora," he called.

She popped her head in the small opening of the door. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

She nodded, her lips in a tight line. "You got it."

* * *

The stiff wind picked up outside, it's howling almost amplified by the thin walls of the building.

Bucky woke slowly, his stomach pleasantly full from the extra helpings Nora had brought in last night, and although the temperature in the room was a bit on the cool side, he felt oddly warm.

Her heard the shuffling of feet outside the door, and from being conditioned to do so, snapped his eyes closed at once. He could almost see the doorknob turning as the person entered the room. He felt their eyes burning holes into his face and chest, so he pretended to wake up.

"Emma," a voice hissed from the doorway. "What did I tell you, young lady?"

"Nora, I-" the voice of a child cut in.

"No, I don't want to hear it. Go in the living room and wait on me." He saw the woman's stern face, her finger pointing toward the door. "Now, Emma."

"...okay," the child whined and sulked from the room.

The older of the two glanced to him, her eyes widened when she saw him watching her. "Sorry," she said, "I've told her and told her about coming in here and disturbing you-"

"Don't worry 'bout it," he said. "Would it be any trouble to ask you for something to drink?"

Nora shook her head quickly. "Not at all. What d'you want? I have water, tea, milk."

_Milk._

His mind sent him back nearly two weeks ago, when he sat in the dark waiting for his last set of orders.

"Water," he rasped.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon was filled with an eerie silence, and Bucky noticed that he hadn't heard the child's shuffling feet in quite some time. Curiously he raised from the bed, his mechanical arm gripping the headboard as he stood unsteadily to his feet. His feet practically dragged themselves against the floor leaving him thankful for the softness of the carpet he'd spent so much time staring at.

He pressed himself against the door, listening intently for any signs of life outside the room.


End file.
